Lullabies the Screams
by curiositykilled
Summary: Random what-if featuring myth!Loki, not!Loki and a bit of crack.


_"Director Fury! Director Fury, there is an intruder on the containment level!" _

Immediately, fifteen eyes turned to the bank of monitors beyond their table, but their captive had neither moved nor been joined by another. Regardless, Natasha, Clint, and Thor's hands tightened against their weapons, while Steve pulled his shield from his back. Bruce stared steadily at the table, most likely thinking of kittens or some other antonym to anger.

"Romanoff, Barton – go check on our guest," Fury ordered.

With barely a nod to acknowledge the command, the two were gone – one into the vents and the other down the hall. The remaining heroes hung about the computer screens, trying to spot the intruder from one of the myriad cameras.

"Really, I swear I mean no harm," an amused voice reached them, "I'm only here for my brother."

Thor had stiffened at the voice, and both Tony and Bruce jerked up at the familiar tone of amused condescension. The voice and footsteps gave only a moment's warning before a bristling cluster of SHIELD agents arrived with their guest in the middle.

Lithe and slender, the young man's face bore a thin, bemused smile, and he kept his pale hands tucked in his jean pockets. All sharp angles and pale skin, the man was an exact match for the prisoner SHIELD now held except for his blazing mop of scarlet hair. At the sight of Thor, his smile widened into something full and genuine, but the mild confusion lingered in his green – no, blue – wait, what color _was_ that? – eyes. His skin, where it could be seen past his jeans and loose t-shirt, seemed to nearly glow, as if his wildfire hair was embodied in real sparks beneath his skin.

"Brother! I'm glad you've found suitable company among the humans at last," he greeted cheerily.

"Loki?" Thor choked out, "I – I…you-"

"Yes?" the slender redhead prompted in a purr.

"_Loki_?" Tony hissed in surprise.

"Why aren't you in your cage, Odinson?" Fury growled. There was no comparing _his_ voice to a cat.

"Laufeyjarson, if you don't mind, and I'm afraid I don't know the cage to which you refer," the other man replied easily.

"Loki is still in the cage, sir; there doesn't-" Natasha cut herself off abruptly, staring at the group near the entrance.

"Thor?" the redhead queried, his brow wrinkling up in a remarkable series of creases.

"Loki, what is this mischief?" Thor, his voice finally returning, demanded.

His grip on Mjolnir tightened, and the other man's brown – no, _purple _– eyes slipped down to the hammer warily. He'd removed his hands from his pockets by now and held them up placatingly.

"I assure you, I mean no ill, brother," he started, "I was merely seeking you."

"Mean no ill?" Rogers objected sharply, "You nearly leveled Manhattan."

Thin brows pressed down on the ever-shifting eyes as one of the man's slender hands briefly rubbed against his scarred lips. If Tony listened closely, he was fairly sure he could hear the gears whirling and grinding in the other's brain.

"I have been in Vanaheim for the past year," he started reluctantly, "Sigyn and I both have."

"Then who the hell is that?" Fury demanded.

Following his gesture to the monitor, the redhead frowned before a genuine, disgusted scowl was quickly shoved under his easygoing mask. Thor had faltered slightly at Sigyn's name, and Bruce couldn't help wondering what it was that caused a brief, epiphanous expression to flash across the demi-god's features at the strange name.

"That is a Chitauri doing a terrible job of being me," he explained.

"We all saw the Chitauri – they're big angry aliens – not gods or whatever the fuck you are," Clint snapped sharply.

If having a bow drawn with the arrow directly at one of his eyes concerned the lissome intruder, he didn't show it. Then again, it was one of six weapons directed towards him if you didn't count Mjolnir. Shoving his delicate hands back into pockets, he lifted and dropped his shoulders in a shrug before turning his quite obviously irritated gaze on Thor.

"You mistook a Chitauri for me," his voice was calm, though Tony noted the movement in his pockets that generally meant a fist, "What in the name of the All-father were you thinking?"

"Loki, I know not what you are doing, but you cannot outrun your crimes," Thor warned lowly, "Drop this illusion, now."

At his first words, Loki had stiffened slightly, betrayal twisting his thin lips. However, he smiled a razor-edge smile at the command. The SHIELD agents had enough to sense to back a step away at that expression, and Tony felt the hair on the back of his neck bristling the same way it had right before he went flying through his own window.

"Very well," he purred.

There was a faint shimmer, and then… the man stood before them exactly as he had a moment previous. Well, no – not exactly. White, butterfly-shaped burns gleamed dully around his eyes, half-faded, and when he deftly pulled his shirt up, Tony had to twist away to keep from vomiting. The wounds there were not quite scars yet and there were gashes and burns that looked like belts had been cinched far too tight.

"Venom takes some time to heal," Loki explained in a soft tone as his form shifted to the unmarred look he'd held before, "but I would never dream of running away."

Tony had to give it to Thor – the big guy wasn't nearly as dumb as they'd thought back when he was trying to figure out the toaster in the helicarrier kitchen. Though the others, excluding Barton and Natasha, of course, looked a few shades livelier than white after seeing those scars, Thor's grip hadn't wavered on his hammer. Which was probably good; Tony _really_ didn't want to experience free fall from the massive window that made up the front of the carrier.

"Then explain this!" Thor…well, thundered.

"The Chitauri shapeshift much as myself," Loki shrugged, "Do you remember nothing of our lessons?"

"He's a shapeshifter?" Bruce murmured.

"This – this _you_ has lived amongst us for nearly two years," Thor rumbled, "I know my brother."

Loki tilted his head slightly, forehead crinkling, before he replied, "Evidently not."

"Explains the freaky eyes; seriously, what are they _doing? _Bambi over there had green eyes all the while _I_ was looking at him," Tony answered under his breath.

"Sir, we can incapacitate him and restrain him for questioning," Natasha offered.

"Touch me and I will burn you," Loki asserted lightly.

She hesitated slightly, but it was far more because of Fury's lack of a decision than from the mild threat. Thor, however, had crossed his arms and let Mjolnir dangle from its strap as he scrutinized the man before him and opened his mouth to speak. Whatever he might have said, however, was cut off as Fury nodded his assent to Natasha.

As soon as the assassin's hand touched Loki's skin, however, she yelped and recoiled with a mixture of surprise and pain. Clutching her hand close to her breast, she stared at the slender man in shock. He had not shifted, but Natasha's palm was now an oozing mess of blackened flesh and silver-pink burn.

"I really did warn you," Loki pointed out..

"How – how did you do that?" Rogers demanded after a moment, staring at Natasha's hand which now hurt too much to clench into the fist she desired.

"My brother is a jotunn – a Frost Giant," Thor explained, his voice somewhat reluctant.

At "frost giant," Loki's back stiffened and instead of the loose-limbed, easygoing stance he'd held, they now recognized the posture of the man they currently held in their cage. Closing his eyes in a long-suffering manner, he drew in a slow breath before releasing it quickly to soothe the temper undoubtedly flaring.

"Fire, Thor, Fire giant," he snapped.

"But – Father said-" Thor started, flummoxed.

"I'm guessing he said jotunn – Jotunheimr isn't the only land of giants," Loki sniffed disparagingly, "Anyway, I am the god of fire. How in the Nine Realms could a frost giant be that? It would be simply sadistic."

Thor was mute for a moment, his jaw working but making no sound. Completely lost, the rest of the team exchanged uncertain glances. While he wasn't presenting much of a threat – minus nearly burning Natasha's hand off – there were still too many similarities between this lanky god of fire and the god of mischief in their holding cell.

"You said this Loki was a Chitauri – uh shape…shifter?" Rogers prompted, "But wouldn't they notice if there were two Lokis?"

"Doubtful," Loki answered, "First of all, I've spent most of the past six centuries tied to a rock beneath Yggdrasil and just broke my bonds a little less than a year ago and the Chitauri could safely count on me avoiding Asgard and the All-father for a good time after that."

Clint scowled, finally releasing the tension in his bow. By this point, his arms – though strong and well-trained – were shaking from the force of the bow and the shot would have lacked much momentum. Besides, the Director didn't seem overly worried, more… curious.

"But he doesn't even look like you," he protested, "It seems like a shitty disguise."

"Oh. Well," Loki paused before shrugging.

As if on cue, his entire body shimmered briefly before softening and shrinking into the slender, curvaceous body of a woman with jet black hair and glinting jade eyes. Wicked dark lips twitched into an all-too-familiar smirk. Trade the tauntingly low-necklined dress for Asgardian leathers and there they had their enemy – well, with a few female additions.

"Most likely they saw only my female form and assumed from there." The voice that came out of those burgundy lips was very distinctly male and easily recognizable as Loki's.

"That just took all the sexy away," Tony remarked wistfully.

Loki's lips peeled into a razor edge smile and the voice that came next was husky and soft and very, very feminine. Regardless of whatever she said in it, the voice was enough to cause a tight warmth to spread through Tony's body. _Shitshit baby kittens and Clint and Fury – ew ew that is _disgusting.

"Men have a hard time listening to me in this form," she purred.

Rogers' glare at Tony was nearly enough to keep him from a snappy comeback, but Thor's darkened scowl and threatening step – along with the thunderheads gathering all too quickly to be natural – was more than enough.

"Have care how you speak, son of Stark," he warned in an eerily familiar tone, "Loki is my sister."

"I thought he was your brother," Tony muttered, entirely lacking any desire to argue with Thor.

He wasn't certain, but he was pretty sure that Thor ended arguments with his fists and hammer, neither of which Tony was overly eager to become familiar with. A slight shimmer and Loki was back to his disjointed male form and wild red mane.

"Worry not, brother," he offered cheerfully, "I'm only doing my best to befriend your new friends."

Bruce coughed into his fist at this, nearly choking on a sip of water, and Clint squeezed his blue eyes shut like that could somehow make that statement any less disturbing. A brief look of irritation flitted over Steve's face, but otherwise the rest of them seemed to ignore that exchange.

"If what you are saying is true," Fury started, startling everyone except Loki, "Then how is this Chitauri still looking like you? That cell should cut off any magic."

"And how's he alive? All the other Chitauri dropped dead when – uh, well," Clint stammered, abruptly uncomfortable with his next words.

"Why would he want to look like you if you were already wanted?" Natasha snapped.

"How the hell do we know you aren't just fucking with us?"

"Why did he have the staff? None of the Chitauri weapons resembled it in the slightest."

"How did you know where to find me if it was not you who planned this attack?"

Bemusement and shock in his silver eyes, Loki lifted his hands with the palms toward them to ward off further questions. Realizing their rambling, the team cut themselves off shortly and waited tersely for answers.

"My, but you are a curious lot," Loki chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

He paused to sort through their questions, absently rubbing his lip again. Watching, Tony couldn't help wondering if that was a remnant from having his lips stitched shut; Thor had admitted – as reluctantly as possible – that that particular story had some truth, and the scars just faintly gleaming in the fluorescent light added some disturbing credence to the tale.

"Shapeshifting is…_different_ from cast magic," he started, handling his words with the delicacy of crystal, "It is much more innate. Spells can be blocked, glamours destroyed, but it takes death to prevent form-changing. No matter the spells or runes you apply to any cage, it will not force him to shift forms unless his body feels it is in imminent danger."

A certain glint had sparked in Fury's eye (_What are you willing to do?_) that set Loki's to a hard, dark blue-grey. Bruce wasn't sure if it was calming or unsettling to see the god's irises stay the same color for longer than a breath; the flickering shades had been making him a bit nauseous, but that sea grey seemed nothing short of a warning.

"I can't answer why he didn't die when the others did; I have no idea what you did to kill them. My best guess would again be seidr keeping him alive," Loki continued with an odd little shrug, "I haven't spent much time with the Chitauri to know them all that well. As for you, Thor, I placed a tracking spell on you when we were children."

Thor scowled at this, distracted briefly by the spell rather than the present problem; if he probed enough, he could probably –

"And New Mexico last year? Am I to believe that this _shapeshifter_ caused that destruction as well?" Fury ground out.

Loki's brows lifted and his eyes flicked to Thor in a very obviously blank expression, though that didn't entirely soothe the team. He was the god of lies, after all; surely, that didn't extend to only verbal falsehoods.

"I was banished to Midgard after…._that_ Loki persuaded me to venture into Jotunheimr. Following that disaster, I spent some days here on Midgard before Father's Destroyer was sent down to kill me. The Warriors Three, Sif and I returned home only to battle who I thought to be you. The Bifrost was broken, and…he fell into the Void," Thor explained haltingly.

As he spoke, Loki's face had smoothed into some semblance of understanding and he nodded slightly.

"I had wondered what called the scavengers," he murmured thoughtfully before straightening and offering a wicked-thin smile, "Well, as much as that sounds like something I'd do, Sigyn and Odin's snake can testify that I was nowhere near Asgard nor Jotunheimr – far too distracted to project an illusion anywhere. And you know I can't enthrall anyone."

Seeming to accept this answer, Thor's face cleared and he leaned back into his heel with relaxed shoulders. The others, however, were less eager to let Loki go.

"And the glowstick of destiny he used to brainwash Feathers and Selvig?" Tony queried.

Anticipating Loki's crinkled-forehead look of confusion, Fury pulled up an image from security footage of the scepter perched on its clear, plastic holder. Loki stepped forward in interest, the three SHIELD agents shuffling sideways along with him; his gaze flicked over in irritated confusion at their presence, but a shake of his head and his focus was once again riveted on the gleaming blue staff.

"Is that held in a magic-blocking room as well?" he checked, gaze flicking to Fury.

"No; the prisoner showed no ability to call it to him at will, so we didn't feel it necessary," the director answered.

Loki nodded and straightened, his fingers flicking out in a fast, arcane gesture. Immediately, gold light glittered about his hand before vanishing. For a few moments, everyone waited in anticipation of something, but nothing happened. Loki merely leaned back as though listening, his shifting eyes steady on the image of the scepter. Just as Tony was clearing his throat to ask about performance issues, a brilliant gold mist enshrouded the scepter on screen before vanishing as Loki winced.

"Ah. The Tesseract. Yes, I imagine that would have some unpleasant effects on a mortal mind," he mused, flexing his hand absently, "I'm surprised you didn't realize he wasn't me while enthralled."

His gaze had settled curiously on Clint, and the archer shifted uneasily. He hadn't mentioned it to anyone – mostly because sifting through the emotions of being Loki's 'flying monkey' had been terrifying enough without other people's judgment – but the connection caused by the staff had been mutual, and he _had_ known that Loki wasn't the Loki he said he was. He just hadn't known _who_ he was.

"I – uh. I was pretty sure he was… lying," he explained gruffly, "But he kept that – uh pretty much to himself."

"Wait. _You _ knew what _he_ was thinking?" Tony demanded incredulously.

Averting his eyes, Clint stared stubbornly at the floor. He hadn't broached this subject with anyone – including Tasha – for a reason.

"Enthrallment is a very two-way process," Loki explained for him, his voice soothing and somewhat lilting – Bruce had the strangest feeling that Loki most often used this voice to lull children to sleep, "The thrall cannot be controlled without the sorcerer sacrificing a part of his own conscious. Although it's not as much as the thrall gives up, it's enough to get a glimpse inside the sorcerer's psyche."

The team fell silent at this, Natasha and Fury studying Clint while the rest of them mulled over the sudden tidal wave of information Loki'd given them. Thor was the first to move, his face splitting in a smile and Mjolnir hanging loosely from its leather strap.

"I am glad to have you returned to me, brother," he announced, his hand around Loki's neck as he leaned their foreheads together.

The slenderer man, just a titch taller than Thor, smiled and closed his eyes at this greeting as his own hand gripped his brother on the shoulder. This lasted only a moment while the rest of the team stared awkwardly. The agents had had the good sense to lower their weapons and step aside some time before.

"So, uh…what do we do about the…_other_ Loki?" Bruce finally asked once the brothers had separated except for Thor's arm draped over Loki's thin shoulders.

"I'd suggest you kill him," Loki shrugged.

For the most part, this seemed entirely acceptable to the superheroes and agents, but Tony was staring incredulously at the nonchalant redhead.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa – you were giving Fury the death glare earlier and now you're advocating execution?" he demanded.

"I've no problem with execution – I've been awaiting mine for some years – but torture is entirely a different story. Anyway, your other option is to trap him in this cage until he either works a way out or starves to death, yes?" Loki replied.

Steve shifted uncomfortably at this accurate summary.

"Well, he was to go with Thor back to uh – Asgard? – but now…" he trailed off.

"Then do you have any suggestions to kill him?" Fury prompted, "Clearly, a nuclear warhead didn't do the trick."

If anyone noticed Tony's minute flinch at this, they didn't say anything. Clenching his fists under the table, the genius (_billionaire playboy philanthropist_) focused on slow, steady breaths and tried to push the images of cold, empty, darkness that was not like the shadows or night but dark, dark, _dark_- out of his mind. Loki's gaze flicked to him but almost immediately returned to Fury.

"I won't have any part in it," he asserted firmly.

"You just told us that the bastard has to die and you won't help?" Clint snapped.

"Humans have always been a creative lot," Loki shrugged nonchalantly, "I'm sure you'll come up with a solution. Now, Thor – if you're fine…"

"Of course," Thor smiled, "Give my best wishes to Lady Sigyn."

With a faint grin and a nod, Loki was gone.

"O-okay…" Bruce stammered, staring at the empty space on which Thor's arm had rested a moment ago.

"My apologies, my friends. My brother is wont to teleport on occasion," Thor chuckled.

"Ah…right," Tony stammered, "So, uh, crazy, shapeshifting god – gone. Crazy, shapeshifting alien – awaiting execution. Right?"

* * *

It was night when he arrived home after briefly flitting in to 'have words' with Odin. In the end, the All-father had said little and simply let his younger son vent his spleen before keeping himself from making empty promises again. They both knew that would do naught but exacerbate still-raw wounds.

Sighing, Loki pushed the thoughts of his adoptive father from his mind. He was home, with the still indigo sky of Vanaheim arcing overhead and the windows of their house lit by flames that did not dance over candlewicks. Long, quick strides took him up the darkened path and into the foyer of the lodge.

"Sigyn?" he called softly, following the hallway to the great room.

Her auburn hair was just barely visible over the chaise's back, and his steps slowed imperceptibly. He paused just a moment before crossing the threshold and folding himself languidly beside her. Although her head turned slightly to face him, the storm grey eyes were vacant and haunted. The venom had butchered his body, but their sons had left their scars in her.

Loki leaned forward, pressing gentle lips to her forehead, and Sigyn's eyes closed for a brief moment before a faint, fleeting smile slipped over her lips. Settling back with his arm wrapped about her shoulders, the trickster breathed a sigh and watched the flames dance in the hearth. The ghosts of two young boys lingered on the periphery of his vision, but they dissipated the moment he focused on where they'd been. Sometimes, he wondered if she saw them, too.


End file.
